weep of meadows between Stanbury
Hill and the wooded slope opposite, the orchard-patches, the flocks
along the margin of the little river. To-day he viewed a very different
scene. Building of various kinds was in progress in the heart of the
vale; a great massive chimney was rising to completion, and about it
stood a number of sheds. Beyond was to be seen the commencement of a
street of small houses, promising infinite ugliness in a little space;
the soil over a considerable area was torn up and trodden into mud. A
number of men were at work; carts and waggons and trucks were moving
about. In truth, the benighted valley was waking up and donning the true
nineteenth-century livery.

The young man's face, hitherto thoughtfully sad, changed to an
expression of bitterness; he muttered what seemed to be angry and
contemptuous words, then averted his eyes and walked on. He entered the
village street and passed along it for some distance, his fixed gaze
appearing studiously to avoid the people who stood about or walked by
him. There was a spot of warm colour on his cheeks; he held himself very
upright and had a painfully self-conscious air.

He stopped before a dwelling-house, rang the bell, and made inquiry
whether Mr. Mutimer was at home. The reply being affirmative, he
followed the servant up to the first floor. His name was announced at
the door of a sitting-room, and he entered.

Two men were conversing in the room. One sat at the table with a sheet
of paper before him, sketching a rough diagram and scribbling notes;
this was Richard Mutimer. He was dressed in a light tweed suit; his fair
moustache and beard were trimmed, and the hand which rested on the table
was no longer that of a daily-grimed mechanic. His linen was admirably
starched; altogether he had a very fresh and cool appearance. His
companion was astride on a chair, his arms resting on the back, a pipe
in his mouth. This man was somewhat older than Mutimer; his countenance
indicated shrewdness and knowledge of the world. He was dark and
well-featured, his glossy black hair was parted in the middle, his
moustache of the cut called imperial, his beard short and peaked. He
wore a canvas jacket, a white waistcoat and knickerbockers; at his
throat a blue necktie fluttered loose. When Hubert's name was announced
by the servant, this gentleman stopped midway in a sentence, took his
pipe from his lips, and looked to the door with curiosity.

Mutimer rose and addre